


Remember Me

by Laurea



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Byakuya Togami Has Feelings And He Hates Them, Dangan Ronpa & Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, Future Foundation, Kyouko Kirigiri Uses Her Talent For Evil (Or At Least For Trolling), M/M, Recovered Memories, Spoilers, between games, references to character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurea/pseuds/Laurea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Future Foundation helps the students begin to recover their lost memories, Byakuya Togami is horrified to discover that his feelings for Makoto Naegi are not what he thought they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, but before Dangan Ronpa 2: Goodbye Despair. Contains major spoilers for the first game, minor for the second.

“Please keep in mind that these memory restoration treatments are still experimental.” Dr. Kimura, the Future Foundation’s lead scientist, turned to face the six survivors of Hope’s Peak, holding a stoppered container of pills. “We’ve done our best under the circumstances, but I’m afraid the process may be a difficult one.”

“It’s a little late to expect us to back out now.” Byakuya settled himself on one of the six narrow cots crammed into the too-small medical wing.

The others tried to hide their anxiety as they drifted to the rows of cots on either side of Dr. Kimura, but it wasn’t hard for Byakuya to see through them. Yasuhiro twitched like he wanted to bolt for the door, and beside him Hina drummed her heels against the cot’s thin wire frame, sending tremors through the flimsy object. Kyoko’s expression might be blank, but that in itself was a telling clue. Toko, who had wormed her way to one of the cots beside Byakuya, kept sweating and muttering to herself, though he made a point not to listen to what she was saying. And on his other side –

“You’re sure we should do this all at once?” Makoto asked, leaned forward and skewering the doctor with his surprisingly intense stare. “Wouldn’t it be better if one of us tested it out first to make sure it’s safe?”

“Yes, but who would do it?” Kyoko pointed out. “Are you saying you’re volunteering?”

“A single volunteer wouldn’t help,” Dr. Kimura said before Makoto could answer. “The most likely risk with the treatment isn’t that it will be unsafe – it’s that it might be completely or partially ineffective. Triggering memories is a difficult business. But in our past work, we’ve found that the treatment is more likely to succeed when used in a group setting. That’s why we’ll be doing this over the course of five days. After every dose of the memory restoration treatment, you’ll report on your recovered memories to one another. Ideally, the exchange of shared memories will spark further recollections.”

“How long will it be until we see effects?” Byakuya asked.

“The first memories should start returning with the first treatment.” Dr. Kimura began filling six small glasses of water at the medical wing’s sink. “The treatment works by weakening the barrier preventing you from accessing your memories while you sleep, allowing moments when you felt strongly about something to cross through to your conscious mind.”

“Well, I think we all know what moments we would have felt the most strongly about,” Kyoko said. “Should we be prepared to face our memories of the Tragedy when we wake up?”

“Not immediately,” Dr. Kimura said. She placed the cups of water on a tray and began walking from cot to cot to distribute them with the medication. “If it works as we expect, you will begin with the more innocuous memories. Traumatic memories do have strong feelings associated with them, but that will work against you in this. The mind doesn’t want those memories back, so they will most likely be some of the last you regain.”

Byakuya took the cup of water and pill, examining the medication critically. “And what if it doesn’t go as you expect?”

“If you’re asking about a worse-case scenario, the Foundation has had a great deal of experience in dealing with people who are suffering a trauma-induced breakdown,” Dr. Kimura said, as matter-of-factly as if she were commenting on supply stockpiles. “But as I said, that is a highly unlikely possibility.” She looked around the group. “If you don’t wish to go through with the treatment, say so now. After the first dose, you’ll need to see it through to completion.”

Byakuya let his gaze roll around the group, looking to see if any of the others showed a faltering resolution even as they did the same. He kept his face steady and unblinking under their eyes, determined to show no weakness here, especially when no one else did.

“All right,” Dr. Kimura said at last, when no one spoke. “Now, take the pill when I instruct you, and then lay back on the cot so that it can take effect. It will keep you unconscious for approximately twelve hours, while you experience some portion of the memories you’ve lost. Once you’ve fully processed the first set of memories, I’ll give you another dose. We’ll repeat the procedure until you’ve had all five treatments.”

She looked around the room and gave a single sharp nod. “All right. Please take your treatment now.”

Byakuya swallowed the pill quickly, watching as his classmates did the same. His gaze flitted around the group, seeing anxiety, stoicism, determination, all the things he expected. And just before the treatment kicked in and dragged him into unconsciousness, his eyes settled on Makoto. Maybe it was drug-induced delusion, but it seemed like Makoto’s last act was to shoot him a hopeful smile.

_Not a bad last sight_ , was the last thing Byakuya consciously thought before falling entirely unconscious.

* * *

_He remembers the hallways._

_Nothing like the echoing caverns in that mockery of a school Monokuma inflicted on them – these hallways are filled with students, crowded with laughter and life. He moves through them elbow to elbow with the best and the brightest of the world. These hallways are full of so much potential it makes the air sing._

_He remembers walking._

_The students joking and laughing in the hallways might be a thousand shades of hope for the future, but they aren’t the ones he’s looking for. He has something special in mind, something that shines brighter than any of the others. There is something here that is more valuable than anything the others represent, something that brings light into parts of him he had never known could feel it._

_He remembers emotions._

_The starburst in his chest when he finds his target tucked snugly in the middle of another group. In the memory this person shines like a beacon, like a lighthouse guiding him home. And the person, this brilliant person who pours light and joy into the world just by being nearby, this person turns to greet him with a smile he would walk through fire to reach._

_He remembers._

* * *

Byakuya’s eyes shot open in horror as he slammed back to consciousness, Makoto Naegi’s face burning in his memory.


	2. Chapter 2

“Was anyone able to recall a lost memory?”

Dr. Kimura looked around the group from her perch on a high, backless stool at the end of the two rows of cots where the students sat. Her long silver pen hovered over a crisp black notebook as she waited for a response.

Byakuya didn’t meet her eyes, locking his chilliest expression in place lest she thought about trying to call on him to speak. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about that so-called memory he’d recovered, and he certainly was not going to acknowledge it in front of all the others.

Fortunately for him, the others were more than happy to share their dreams.

“I did!” Hina announced, her hand shooting up in the air as though she were answering a question in class. “I remembered the first swimming competition I entered after I enrolled at Hope’s Peak! The whole class came to cheer me on.”

“Did you win?” Yasuhiro asked.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Are you even capable of thinking before you speak? Of course she won, she’s the Ultimate Swimmer.”

“Yes, I won,” Hina said, beaming. “And I knew it because I could hear you all cheering when I finished.” Then her smile faded. “Sakura was the first one to congratulate me.”

And there it was, the first mention of one of their dead classmates. Obviously it would come up if they were going to recover their memories, so Byakuya had already steeled himself not to flinch. Apparently the others hadn’t bothered to prepare themselves equally, though – eyes dropped, expressions changed, so many obvious signs of weakness.

And then Makoto looked up, his expression shifting from sorrow to something stronger. “That sounds like her,” he said. “I think that’s how she would have wanted you to remember her. She would have wanted you to remember being friends the first time around, too.”

Makoto smiled, shakily at first, but then with more determination. The sadness in Hina’s eyes lifted a little in the face of Makoto’s sincerity, and after a moment she smiled back. It spread to the others like a disease, faces lightening and shoulders straightening all around. Of course it did. Byakuya supposed he could see how other people could react that way to Makoto’s smiles, if they were vulnerable to such things.

“I guess Sakura and I really were friends.” This time Hina didn’t look devastated when she said Sakura’s name. “It’s nice to know that everything wasn’t completely different. The important things stayed the same.”

“Thank you, Miss Asahina.” Dr. Kimura made a couple notes, then gestured towards Yasuhiro.

“Yeah, I remembered some stuff, too,” Yasuhiro agreed. “We were studying astronomy, so we all had to go out to class at night to see the sky. I was telling you all about the aliens, you know, but Celeste didn’t believe me.”

“Imagine that,” Byakuya muttered.

“Right!” Yasuhiro nodded. “So I showed her – I did the whole assignment about aliens, instead of those lies they had in the textbooks. And when I got it back, it was the same as my fortune telling – twenty percent right. So that proves it!”

Hina blinked at him. “Proves what?”

“That I’m always twenty percent right!” Yasuhiro grinned like he’d revealed the mysteries of the universe.

Byakuya grimaced. “I can feel the intelligence draining out of the room just from that story’s existence.”

Makoto looked over at him and laughed a little. “Don’t say it like that,” he protested. “I think it’s reassuring. It means Yasuhiro hasn’t really changed either.”

Byakuya had been fully prepared to continue flinging insults in Yasuhiro’s direction – but having Makoto’s attention fixed on him made his train of thought falter. For a moment, his bizarre recovered memory flashed before his eyes, when the entire hallway had grown brighter in the moment that Makoto turned to look at him.

And why the hell was he thinking of that all of a sudden? Byakuya looked sharply away, scowling.

Meanwhile, Dr. Kimura had taken the opportunity to move hastily on from Yasuhiro’s nonsense, prompting Kyoko to share her memory instead.

“I recalled a day in class with everyone,” Kyoko said. She looked away from the group as she considered her words. “It was one of the first days, I believe, because we were joined by –” She took a deep breath. “By the headmaster. I remember listening to him talking to the class, and offering us all a personal welcome to Hope’s Peak.”

She didn’t seem inclined to speak more. Dr. Kimura frowned. “Would you like to add anything else?”

Kyoko paused to consider it. “Actually, I would. I noticed something similar to the others – the memory felt recognizably like my own. It fit the pattern of my thoughts, and I could see myself reacting in such a way to the experience.” She raised an eyebrow at Makoto. “So you may feel reassured at that, as well.”

Byakuya was certain he didn’t show a visible reaction to Kyoko’s description of her memory, but internally it threw him to see the others all nod along. They had recognized themselves in their recovered memories? They felt familiar? None of that described his experience at all. He couldn’t recall another time that he’d been in a crowd of people and felt anything other than irritation at the noise.

Maybe his dose of the medication had been defective, or he’d had some kind of allergic reaction. That would certainly explain the end of the memory, that burst of incomprehensible happiness just from seeing Makoto, of all people. It had been absurd – there had to be some kind of explanation.

“Well, it sounds like we’re all remembering some pretty early events,” Makoto said, snapping Byakuya’s attention back to the conversation. “It would make sense that no one would be that different. I actually think I remembered our opening ceremony, and everyone seemed pretty similar to the way they acted before.” He paused. “Well, except Byakuya – he was way ruder the first time.”

Byakuya stiffened, eyeing Makoto suspiciously, but it didn’t seem as though the statement was intended to be malicious. Makoto was just pondering his memory and relaying what he’d seen.

“That would be difficult to manage,” Kyoko said dryly.

“I think he tried pretty hard.” Makoto actually laughed, sending Byakuya a smile. “I guess you really didn’t like me before, huh?”

That was not at all what Byakuya’s memory suggested, but he was certainly not about to say so. “I’m sure my comments were fully justified.”

“Oh, they would have been,” Toko interrupted, her face flushing. “They always are. I remembered the very first time you insulted me.”

Byakuya shifted away from her, not at all interested in being within grabbing distance if she decided to try something.

“You called me _dirty_ ,” Toko said, sighing. “You said to get away from you before I gave you fleas. I remembered _everything_ about it.”

Byakuya gave up on subtlety and moved all the way to the edge of the cot he was sitting on, not liking the look on Toko’s face at all.

And with how closely they were crammed together, that left Byakuya with his arm pressed against Makoto’s.

The sensation was unaccountably warm, heat radiating through him more strongly than could be explained by simple body heat. It was like nestling under a favorite blanket, and the thought flashed through his mind that it would be pleasant to linger there.

Faced with that nonsense, Byakuya jerked his arm away and scowled. Pleasant? He’d never yet seen anything pleasant about physical contact with another person, and an odd sensation was not going to change that.

“So what did you remember?” Makoto asked, apparently not at all put off by Byakuya jerking away from him like a plague victim. “You did remember something too, right?”

For a moment, Byakuya considered claiming that he hadn’t. It would hardly be a real lie – it wasn’t as though that memory could possibly be real.

But that would lead to other questions, and he knew better than to try to spin a web of lies when he didn’t know exactly where it would lead. Better to stick to the bare minimum of truth and simply leave out parts of it.

“I remembered the hallways,” Byakuya said. “They were overcrowded and remarkably different from the ones we experienced more recently.”

Dr. Kimura frowned at him when he didn’t elaborate. “Anything else?”

“No.”

The doctor made another note, then snapped her notebook closed and stood with a bright smile. “Well, it sounds like all of you had a successful first treatment.”

“We only got one memory each, though,” Hina said. “Won’t it take a long time like this?”

“It will go faster as you begin to recover more memories,” Dr. Kimura said. “Your memories are linked, and not just chronologically. Remembering one thing will trigger related memories. Hearing the memories of your classmates will also help you recall more.” She looked around at them. “I suggest you all prepare yourselves. This was the easiest of the treatments. The memories you recover will only get more intense from here.”


	3. Chapter 3

Byakuya eyed the second dose of medication lying innocuously in his palm. It was ridiculous that such a tiny object could disconcert him so much.

What would he see if he took the pill? Various possibilities suggested themselves, and he didn’t much care for any of them. The first “memory” had made no sense whatsoever. Would a second dose explain it, or just drag him further into this pit of lies?

Dr. Kimura had just finished distributing the final dose when Byakuya looked up. “Wait,” he ordered.

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”

The others all turned to stare at him, but he was hardly going to react to that – not even to the concern in Makoto’s eyes.

“I simply wanted to confirm something,” Byakuya said. “You said this treatment does include risks, however minimal. Is there any chance that we could recover false memories?”

Dr. Kimura considered him for a moment. “It would be highly unlikely, but I suppose it can’t fully be ruled out.”

Byakuya nodded, relaxing minutely. He’d known there would be a reasonable explanation.

“However, I don’t think the treatment itself would be able to generate such memories,” the doctor went on, tapping her pen against her palm as she thought. “All it does is weaken the barrier to what you’ve locked away. If you were to recover false memories, it would most likely be your subconscious responding to trauma by creating an alternate reality for you.” She frowned at him. “Have you experienced anything like that?”

Byakuya refused to believe that his subconscious would concoct any kind of alternate reality involving Makoto. “No.”

She eyed him a moment longer, then nodded. “In that case, keep in mind that you’ve only taken a single dose so far. It’s possible that what may seem false now will make sense as you regain more memories.”

That was exactly what he didn’t want to hear. He looked away, scowling, only to catch Kyoko giving him a skeptical look.

“So your memories of the hallway seemed false?”

Byakuya glared at her. “I thought the question needed to be asked, and clearly none of you were going to bother.”

“Well, if that question was the last one?” Dr. Kimura looked around the room and nodded sharply. “All right. Go ahead.”

Refusing to take the treatment at this point would only draw more attention to the fact, and that was the last thing Byakuya wanted. Without letting himself think about what might be coming, he downed the pill. This time he closed his eyes before unconsciousness took him, refusing to turn his head to see if Makoto had looked at him again.

* * *

_He remembers smiling._

_In his life as the Togami heir, all his smiles were cold and sharp-edged, meant as weapons against a harsh world. But the smiles here come from a different place, softened at the edges and warm like thawing ice. These aren’t weapons to hurt the person beside him – these are gifts to make that person happy. Because it is important – so important – that this person smile back._

_He remembers warmth._

_A thousand touches flicker across his memory, divorced from any context that might explain why they’d occurred. Bumped shoulders, a hand on a wrist, any of them could be accidental – but they sear across his skin like brands. Each touch electrifies him, leaves him yearning for more._

_He remembers time._

_Wasted time has always annoyed him, valuable seconds stolen away by boredom and idleness. But these moments, even empty of what he’d usually consider worthwhile activity, shine golden, just because he is sharing them with someone else. Any time he spends with this person, the most important person, is time well spent. Any time apart, even doing something more obviously productive, fades to gray by comparison._

_He remembers._

* * *

When Byakuya awoke, the memory lingered just long enough for him to wish Makoto were beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was very short, but I had to cut it here because the next one is going to be much longer. Fun times are coming, I promise! (Although not much fun for Byakuya, I guess.)


	4. Chapter 4

Byakuya had never seen the point of denying the obvious. In order to prevail, one had to face the reality of a situation, however unpleasant it might be.

And the reality he currently faced included the distinct probability that at some point in the past couple years, he had developed some sort of _feelings_ for Makoto Naegi. The first memory had been confusing, but the rush of memory scraps he’d recovered from the second treatment had made things terribly clear. He might never have had such idiocy inflicted on him before, but he could recognize the symptoms in his memories.

What he couldn’t understand was how he could have allowed it to happen. The Togami Corporation would have still been in its glory then, and he would have known the path he would eventually need to take to ensure another successor. Those encounters would have been based in calculated decisions and mutually beneficial arrangements, leaving no room for the momentary rush of hormones and infatuation.

Such entanglements had never been a problem before. While Byakuya had gone through the motions physically, he’d never had anything but contempt for his partners, all grasping desperately for whatever they thought they could get from him in a darkened bedroom. He’d certainly never had any revolting thoughts about the world being brighter in their presence.

Maybe he’d had a head injury in the intervening years. Those were known to cause drastic personality shifts. And really, brain damage was the only explanation for why he would have those kinds of thoughts about someone average, someone ordinary, someone –

“Hey, Byakuya?”

Makoto leaned into Byakuya’s vision, his hand dropping onto Byakuya’s shoulder like a brand.

Byakuya froze, paralyzed by the warmth of Makoto’s hand radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt. Every nerve beneath Makoto’s hand screamed with the awareness that less than a millimeter stood between skin to skin contact.

Makoto stood close, too close, and he was _looking_ at Byakuya far too intensely, like he’d devoted all his attention to the task. That thought brought warmth rising up through Byakuya’s face, coloring his cheeks the faintest hint of pink.

No. He would _not_ react in such an obvious manner. He shook Makoto’s hand off his shoulder and put several steps of distance between them, ignoring the way it left his shoulder feeling cold.

Makoto didn’t seem discouraged by this reaction – not that anything ever seemed to discourage him. “Sorry for interrupting, but we’re getting ready to report on our memories again. I think we all remembered a lot more this time!”

Makoto smiled at that, and despite himself Byakuya’s stomach flipped. He couldn’t believe it even as it happened. Was this how it was going to be? Were his memories going to distort his normal reactions and force him to behave like an infatuated fool?

Not if he could help it.

“Fine.” Byakuya swept past Makoto without looking at him again, every inch of his posture proclaiming how far above a commoner he was. Whatever mistakes his memories might reveal he’d made in the past, it didn’t mean he had to replicate them.

To that end, Byakuya took the place Hina had been sitting last time, between Kyoko and Yasuhiro, instead of taking the place beside Makoto. Of course, he would still have the boy in his line of vision, but he would just have to control his gaze to minimize possible eye contact. After all, he’d mastered board meetings with the world’s most cutthroat executives – this couldn’t possibly be more difficult.

“You’re all prepared, then?” Dr. Kimura asked, tapping her pen against her notebook as she waited for the students to sort out their seating arrangements. “All right. You should have remembered much more after this treatment, so I will expect much more detail in your reports.” She tilted the tip of the pen towards Hina. “Go ahead.

“Well, I mostly remembered a lot of little things,” Hina said, considering it. “Swimming practice, eating together in the cafeteria, and just hanging out with everyone.”

“Like having a collection of puzzle pieces for a single picture,” Kyoko agreed.

“So does that mean they’ll all make more sense if we can piece them together?” Makoto asked.

“That is the goal,” Dr. Kimura said. “Now, Miss Asahina, if you could elaborate on some of what you’ve recalled? You mentioned swimming practice – let’s start there.”

Byakuya doubted that Hina’s description of swimming laps would trigger any of his own memories. Instead of wasting his time listening to her chatter, he let his attention shift to the others in the group. Did any of them look remarkably different, as if they’d learned anything disconcerting from their new memories?

Yasuhiro certainly looked like as much of an idiot as ever, nodding along like Hina’s report meant something to him. And Toko hadn’t changed, either, struggling to hold back a leer when she noticed his gaze on her. He quickly looked past her to Hina, lest his stalker believe he’d given her even a crumb of encouragement. Hina looked thoughtful as she spoke, but not excessively distraught. It seemed Makoto’s words from the previous day had stuck with her.

When Byakuya looked away, he forced his gaze to jump past the seat next to Hina. In his current state, there was a distinct possibility he would find himself staring at the boy sitting there.

But when he looked past Makoto, he found himself meeting Kyoko’s eyes. And that obnoxiously clever girl, the one who’d had the nerve to outsmart him – she was _smirking_ at him.

Did she know something? She had to – she would have no reason to look at him in that manner otherwise. What had she remembered? The horrifying possibilities unfurled before Byakuya’s eyes. Surely he wouldn’t have done something _stupid_ , would he? It was bad enough that he’d apparently had the feelings at all. He couldn’t have lost control to the point where he’d acted on them, could he?

He had to remember more. Any memories would do. Byakuya wrenched his attention away from Kyoko’s smirk and focused on the other students’ reports. Hina’s repetitive recitations of class functions, Toko’s coarse descriptions of their classmates, and Yasuhiro’s jabbering about supposedly strange occurrences throughout the school, he listened to all of it with all the attention he used to reserve for corporation functions. If there was a scrap of information in any of this drivel that could trigger another of his memories, he was not going to miss it.

But it was all a waste. The only thing he got from listening so closely to such idiocy was a slight headache. When Yasuhiro finally finished describing his memory of searching for ruins buried under the school, Dr. Kimura’s pointing pen circled around to him.

“Mr. Togami,” the doctor said. “Your turn.”

Byakuya scowled. He should have prepared better for this moment. What could he possibly report without giving himself away? “It was extremely fragmented.”

“That wouldn’t be unusual,” Dr. Kimura said. “The barrier to your memories may be eroding along patterns that will only make sense later. If you don’t have cohesive memories to share, simply start at the beginning of your dreams and describe them as they occurred.”

The start of his dreamed memories – Byakuya flashed back to that brilliant memory of Makoto’s smiling face, colored so bright with affection. He was certainly not going to bring _that_ up in front of the others, especially not when Kyoko had remembered some crucial detail that he didn’t.

Other memories, then. Byakuya rapidly sorted through them, searching for something free of incriminating details.

“I remember going into a classroom,” he said at last. “It was early morning, before the first class of the day. It was presumably a mathematics class, because I also remember seeing several students scrambling to finish math assignments before the bell rang.”

“Do you remember who they were?’ Dr. Kimura prompted, when Byakuya would have stopped there.

“The ones who lacked forward thinking skills,” Byakuya said flatly. “Leon, Hifumi, Mondo, and –” He hesitated, not wanting to name the other boy – but surely this much was harmless enough. “And Makoto.”

Makoto laughed ruefully at that, and Byakuya had to fight not to smile in return. “Yeah, sounds about right. Math was never my best subject.”

“Obviously.” Byakuya ensured his voice was sufficiently chilly, masking his bizarre urge to smile at the boy. “Several of your answers were wrong.”

That made Makoto grin as if Byakuya had been making some kind of friendly inside joke, instead of telling the literal truth. Makoto’s answers had been wrong, and Byakuya remembered leaning down to point out the glaring errors. His fingers had brushed Makoto’s as he’d pointed to different points on the paper, and he had the dark suspicion that such contact had been his past self’s deliberate goal.

Byakuya hardened his expression into an icy mask before returning his gaze to the doctor. “As I said earlier, the memories were fragmented.”

“The next one, then,” Dr. Kimura instructed, waving her pen in a vague prompting gesture.

Byakuya managed to string together another four memories that revealed as little as possible of what he’d truly been remembering. Makoto’s presence in each memory was unavoidable, and even when he tried to leave the other boy out, Dr. Kimura’s probing questions brought him back into the conversation. But after the first slip, Byakuya managed to keep his mentions of Makoto frosty enough not to prompt further conversation attempts. If he couldn’t hide the content of his memories, he could at least mask what it meant. At last, he decided he could plausibly declare himself finished.

And then he realized that meant it was Kyoko’s turn.

What was she going to say? Byakuya looked over at her in trepidation. She’d remembered something – something about _him_. Was she about to reveal it to the entire group? Cold horror flooded his veins as he considered just what she might say.

And she knew it, too, damn her. Kyoko smirked at Byakuya once more, so faintly it could be mistaken for an innocent smile by the unobservant, just before she began speaking.

“I remembered Valentine’s Day.”

Byakuya went pale. Kyoko had remembered a romantic holiday? Not that he believed he could have done anything foolish on a day when _girls_ confessed their love – but it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“All the girls in class decided to get together to make chocolates for the boys,” Kyoko said, her face serene.

“That sounds like fun,” Hina said wistfully.

“It was. We made a big batch of ordinary chocolate so that all the boys would get a little from each of us. And then,” Kyoko’s smile deepened, “we each made some special chocolates.”

“Special chocolates?” Toko’s breathing rate audibly increased. “Were they _laced_ with anything? An extra special ingredient, to make the boys a little less resistant?”

Byakuya made a mental note never to consume anything prepared in Toko’s presence again.

Kyoko eyed Toko for a long moment. “We added extra decorations,” she said at last. “In any case, out of solidarity, we all agreed that we would give some of these extra special chocolates to our favorite boy in the class, even if he wasn’t one we had romantic feelings towards.”

“Wait, you what?” Yasuhiro demanded indignantly. “That’s not fair! Girls aren’t supposed to be confusing like that!”

“I think it sounds like a nice idea!” Hina said. “That way no one would have to be too nervous about giving special chocolates, if everyone was giving at least one.”

“Precisely,” Kyoko said. “Of course, the end result was that Makoto ended up getting eight sets of special chocolates.”

Byakuya couldn’t stop his gaze from snapping over to Makoto, just in time to see the boy go red and stammer, “Wait, w-what?”

“That can’t be right!” Toko objected, jumping to her feet. “I would only give my chocolates to my Master, if he would deign to accept them.”

“I wouldn’t,” Byakuya said flatly, hoping to put a stop to that preemptively.

“Unfortunately not,” Kyoko agreed. “In fact, he even went so far as to order you to give them to someone else.”

“He what?” Toko collapsed back into her chair, looking conflicted. “I guess if Master ordered it…”

“Thus Makoto’s impressive chocolate collection,” Kyoko said.

“Man, _everyone_?” Yasuhiro shook his head. “Never knew you were such a ladies’ man, Makoto!”

“I wasn’t! I mean, I’m not!” Makoto protested, waving his hands defensively.

“It annoyed quite a few of the other boys in class,” Kyoko said, with a glance towards Byakuya. “After all, I’m sure it can’t have been comfortable to see the object of one’s affection sharing a romantic moment with someone else.”

And with that Byakuya realized just what Kyoko had really remembered. He must have been jealous. He’d been faced with the sight of all the girls in their class lining up to present Makoto with gift after gift of special Valentine’s Day chocolates, and he’d been so obviously jealous that Kyoko had noticed.

Had he really been that pathetic? Byakuya was starting to think he might hate his past self. He knew better than to betray his own emotional state to other people. He knew better than to have the kind of emotions that could be betrayed in the first place! Now Kyoko had ammunition that she could use against him at will, and who knew what she would do with it?

At least she wasn’t using it yet. Kyoko moved on to another memory, this one about their first exams. Not that this made Byakuya feel much better. He didn’t believe for a moment that Kyoko would let such valuable information go. No, she was saving it up for something. He just didn’t know what yet.

The rest of Kyoko’s memory reports didn’t hold any clues. When she finished, that left only the person whose memories Byakuya had been dreading most – Makoto himself.

“I don’t think I remembered anything nearly as interesting as the rest of you,” Makoto said, when all eyes turned to him. “It was just ordinary things, really. Everyone together at lunch, or studying together before a test, or things like that. They were all moments when we were all a group.” He looked at the ground, sighing. “I think we were all really good friends.”

That did seem to be true. Everyone’s memories had confirmed as much. But of course it would be Makoto who would have seen the entire perspective, and who would know how to put it into words that would stab everyone through the heart.

Byakuya stared at this boy who had seen through to the truth at the heart of things, who had cared enough about them all to say what they needed to hear – and what he felt in that moment didn’t come from lost memories at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Byakuya stalked into one of the unused sick rooms at the back of the Foundation base’s medical center, desperate for some semblance of solitude so that he could work through his thoughts and memories. It wasn’t ideal, not when the room only had a curtain instead of a properly locking door, but at least it provided some minor barrier between the others and himself.

He dropped into one of the chairs at the small table, staring at the blank wall as memories scrawled themselves out before his eyes. Those were bad enough on their own, when they’d just been strange thoughts from some other person that had somehow been injected into his head. But he couldn’t think of them that way any longer.

The problem was not just that his past self’s incomprehensible feelings for Makoto had started bleeding into his mind because of the medication – it was that he apparently had feelings for Makoto now. Perhaps the memories had triggered them, or maybe they’d been lurking in his head unbeknownst to him for some time now, just waiting to ambush him. He had no way of telling, and in any case it hardly mattered. He had to deal with it, however the situation had come about.

After all, it couldn’t possibly be that difficult to get rid of this nonsense, now that he was aware of the issue. He just needed to reprioritize his thoughts, remember what really mattered to him.

There was nothing special about Makoto, not really. He’d said as much back when Makoto had started trying to hunt him down in the library during the killing game, and he’d just wanted the boy to go away and leave him alone. Byakuya tried to focus on the irritation he’d felt then, the way he’d torn apart every aspect of the boy’s existence. Lackluster personality, mediocre upbringing, ordinary talents – none of that should so much as draw his attention, let alone bring warmth into his life.

Though of course, he did have to admit Makoto was smarter than he looked. He’d gotten them through every one of Monokuma’s trials – with help, granted, but he’d been the one to construct the arguments, to break through the lies, to win the cases. He’d never given up, not even under the worst attacks Junko had thrown at him – not even when everyone else had nearly succumbed. Those were hardly the actions of someone ordinary.

And it wasn’t just that Makoto had endured – he’d done it with his humanity intact. From his vulnerability to Sayaka all the way through to his final words of encouragement to give the last survivors hope, he’d been kind. He’d retained his sense of empathy for others. Byakuya had always believed that such behavior was nothing more than a weakness for others to exploit, but Makoto had turned it into his greatest strength – strength that had allowed him to overcome despair.

Byakuya shook himself. What the hell was he thinking? Yes, fine, Makoto had certainly managed to dredge up some actual talent in the end, but that wasn’t the point. Outside of those moments of adversity, Makoto Naegi was not something special. He had common tastes, normal behaviors, average looks – everything that should be bland and forgettable!

Although it wasn’t as though Makoto was actually repulsive. There was something almost appealing about the way Makoto’s emotions showed through his open, friendly appearance. His features themselves might not be anything out of the ordinary, but they displayed everything he felt for the world to see. The fire when he argued, the happiness when he smiled, the intense belief in the others that lit his eyes from the depths of his soul when he looked at them – all those things made Makoto extraordinary.

Byakuya dropped his head into his hands. What was wrong with him? He’d meant to gouge these feelings from his head by any means necessary, and instead he was sitting around daydreaming like a schoolgirl? He might as well start writing Makoto’s name surrounded by tiny pink hearts.

Although green might be better, to match his favorite hoodie.

Byakuya began knocking his forehead against the table. Maybe physical force would dislodge this sentimental rubbish from his brain. Or at least it could distract him from the fact that he’d just had fond thoughts about that monstrosity of commoner attire that Makoto insisted on wearing constantly. He never seemed to take the wretched thing off, letting it hang back from his neck in a stark contrast to the pale skin disappearing underneath.

Oh, god. He was so screwed. The only possible way this moment could get any worse would be if –

“Hello, Togami.”

If Kyoko decided to show up.

Byakuya jerked his head off the table and glared at the pale girl. “Kirigiri. What do you want?”

To anyone else she probably would have looked as blank-faced as usual, but Byakuya could detect the faint hint of a smirk lurking in her expression. “I just wanted to talk for a while,” she said, seating herself across the table without waiting for an invitation. “We haven’t really had a chance to chat, just you and I, and I’m sure there’s a lot we might want to say to one another.”

So this was it. She’d decided how she wanted to use her knowledge of his feelings. Byakuya narrowed his eyes at her, trying to work out what she might be planning. “I’m listening.”

“Leaving the conversational direction to me?” Kyoko asked, raising one eyebrow. “Very well, if you insist.” She settled back in her chair, to all appearances perfectly at ease. “I’ve been thinking about the memories you regained, and something quite interesting about them occurred to me.”

“Oh?” Byakuya didn’t let himself react, filling his voice with as much boredom as possible.

“Yes. You said you remembered the hallways, the classrooms, the entrance hall, a few other things, and it struck me how very different your memories are from what the rest of us have recovered.”

Byakuya could recognize a fishing attempt when he heard one, and he had no intention of letting the detective learn any more information than whatever she already had. “How so?” he asked, instead of commenting on her observation.

“Well, the rest of us all recalled emotionally charged memories, especially at first,” Kyoko said. “The more mundane events have only been filling in later. But you – you _started_ with mundanities.”

She was trying to get him to admit he’d left memories out of his reports. Well, it wouldn’t work.

“We all think differently,” Byakuya said, shrugging. “Naturally our memories would return differently.”

“But Dr. Kimura said it would take a strong memory to break down that first barrier,” Kyoko countered. “The rest of us all recalled powerful first memories – first meetings, victories, proving ourselves to classmates. We all remembered things that had meaning to us.” Her eyes burned into his. “And _you_ remembered walking down the hallway.”

“I have strong feelings about crowds of idiots.” Byakuya knew it sounded ridiculous as he said it, but still, she couldn’t contradict him. She wouldn’t need to fish like this if she had any real evidence of anything.

“Apparently.” Kyoko smiled so innocently. “It’s amazing, really - so many memories full of interesting occurrences you could have recalled, and what comes back to you is something so _average_. So _ordinary_. Not at all what I would have expected from someone with your attitude.”

The words slid in like needles, but he’d had long practice not flinching at such attacks. “Do you have a point?”

“Just making conversation,” Kyoko said lightly. Then her gaze flicked past him. “Oh – hello, Makoto.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to fall for such an obvious ploy.”

“Why would Kyoko say hi to me as a ploy?”

Byakuya twisted sharply, nearly falling out of his seat as the unexpected sound of Makoto’s voice so close behind him set his heart pounding. The other boy was standing right there, inches away, and his expression of confusion was so charming that Byakuya thought he might be sick – or were those actually butterflies churning in his stomach?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Makoto said, blinking in surprise. “I figured you heard me coming.”

Byakuya cursed himself for reacting like that – such an obvious, visible reaction that even Makoto had been able to spot it. And if he had –

Byakuya looked back at Kyoko, only to see the detective smiling like a cat who’d cornered her prey.

“Why don’t you join us, Makoto?” Kyoko invited, gesturing at the seat beside Byakuya. “We were just discussing our memories.”

Before Makoto could answer, Byakuya shoved away from the table and stood, putting on his darkest scowl. “No, we’re not. I’m done.”

But before he could storm off, Makoto caught his wrist. “Wait, don’t go – I didn’t mean to chase you off!”

Makoto’s fingers only rested lightly on Byakuya’s wrist, less weight than the cuff of a silk shirt, but they held Byakuya faster than a steel trap. Makoto wanted him to stay nearby. Every sensation Byakuya felt at that moment seemed to radiate out from that hand on his, skin against skin, a physical manifestation of Makoto’s desire for his presence.

“Fine.” Byakuya dropped back into his chair, trying not to show the rush of emptiness in him as Makoto’s hand fell away. It didn’t bother him at all to lose the physical contact with the other boy. In fact, it was probably better this way. Who knew what idiotic thing he might say or do with Makoto’s touch muddying his judgement?

Makoto took the seat beside him, beaming like he’d gotten an especially nice present. Byakuya frowned down at the table, refusing to look directly at the other boy for fear he wouldn’t be able to look away. He had to figure out a way to solve this as soon as possible – anything to get these stupid reactions under control.

“So you said you were talking about your memories?” Makoto asked.

“That’s right.” The smile Kyoko gave Makoto looked much more genuine than the knife-edged smiles she’d sent in Byakuya’s direction. “All the ordinary, average times we spent at Hope’s Peak together.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it average,” Makoto said, confused. “I mean, I guess maybe in comparison to Monokuma’s game it was – but I would’ve said it was actually pretty special.”

“So you’re saying that something that sounds average can become special to the people involved once you have some personal investment in it?” Kyoko asked sweetly. “Hmm – yes, I think I see what you mean. I think I see how someone might look at something _average_ and _dull_ and start to see something more than that.” She raised an eyebrow in Byakuya’s direction. “What do you think, Togami? Have you ever experienced anything like that?”

Byakuya glared at her. “I think this entire conversation is a waste of time.”

“Really? Well, I suppose that’s to be expected,” Kyoko mused. “After all, you have said quite a few times how much you hate everything _ordinary_.” Her eyes slid away from Byakuya. “Isn’t that right, Makoto?”

“Huh?” Makoto looked between the two of them, clearly several steps behind them both in the conversation. At least there was that much to be grateful for – Makoto might be sharp, but he wasn’t devious enough to work out what Kyoko was actually talking about. “Well, I guess so. I mean, you did make it pretty clear when you told me what you thought of me.”

That conversation again. Byakuya went cold when he realized that Makoto would remember that as well. Of course Makoto would remember how Byakuya had responded to his friendly overtures by verbally eviscerating him.

“Actually,” Makoto went on, frowning as he thought about it, “I don’t think that was the first time you said something like that to me.”

“Oh, really?” Kyoko prompted before Byakuya could react. “Are you saying something similar happened in your recovered memories?”

“Yeah, it did,” Makoto said. “I didn’t really go into the details when we had our first group report, but it’s from that first memory I had of all of us meeting for the first time.” He laughed. “Man, and I thought the version I already remembered was the longest stream of insults you could throw.”

He’d insulted Makoto at first sight? Byakuya wondered in dread just what he could have said that would be worse than what he remembered.

“So Togami made a point of insulting you?” Kyoko shook her head. “Well, it certainly sounds like something about you had quite an effect on him.”

“I guess so,” Makoto said. He glanced at Byakuya. “You really wanted to be sure I knew you hated me, huh?”

And that was how Makoto thought he felt. Of course it was. He’d done nothing but send barrages of insults the boy’s way time and again, hammering home the vast different between the two of them. Why hadn’t he at least tried to exercise some restraint? Why had he decided to burn bridges so cavalierly? He knew perfectly well how to fake cordiality – why hadn’t he bothered?

Well, he knew why. He could remember, from the first days in Monokuma’s Hope’s Peak. He’d dismissed Makoto so thoroughly that it had seemed inconceivable that he would ever want anything from the boy. He hadn’t thought Makoto would be worth wasting courtesy on, and so he’d buried the boy under an avalanche of vicious honesty. He hadn’t thought it would ever matter.

And he’d been wrong. The words rose up in his throat, battering at his lips in a desperate need to express themselves.

_I didn’t mean it._

_I don’t hate you._

_You’re the least ordinary person I’ve ever met._

_I can’t stop thinking about you._

_I’m terrified of what I’d do to convince you to smile at me again._

The words screamed through him, and only Kyoko’s smirking presence let him force them back. The confession burned in his throat, like he actually wanted to say it – like he genuinely wanted to lay his heart at Makoto’s feet.

On the other hand, maybe that wasn’t such a terrible idea. Maybe if he allowed himself to indulge this madness for the briefest of moments, he could get it out of his system and return to his normal self.

Of course, he couldn’t possibly proceed with that plan if Makoto was still under the impression Byakuya hated him.

Byakuya cleared his throat. “While I don’t recall the specific event in question yet, it is just barely possible I may have stated my views with excessive force.”

Makoto laughed. _Again_. Why was he doing that? Was there something amusing in all this that Byakuya had missed?

“Yeah, that’s sure one way to put it,” Makoto said. “But I don’t mind so much anymore.”

“That’s awfully generous of you,” Kyoko said. “I would have insisted on a groveling apology for that kind of insult.”

“No, it’s fine,” Makoto said, waving a hand. “Honestly, it’s not all that important anymore.”

It wasn’t? Well, that was a relief. Byakuya allowed himself to relax minutely. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Makoto wouldn’t hold his past words against him as adamantly as some of the others might.

“After all, it’s okay to forgive a friend, right?” Makoto sent Byakuya a bright smile.

But instead of warming him, this smile made Byakuya go cold, the word echoing inside his head. “Friend?” he heard himself repeat without actually intending to say the word, his voice sounding frigidly distant and separate from himself.

“Oh, come on, Togami,” Kyoko said. “Surely you knew that’s how Makoto feels about you, right?”

Byakuya glared at the calm, unruffled girl across the table from him. If anything could have made this conversation worse, it was that she was there to witness it.

“Of course he knows we’re friends!” Makoto said. Then the silence finally seemed to penetrate his notice, and he glanced from Kyoko back to Byakuya, uncertainty entering his expression. “I mean… we are friends, right?”

“Yes, tell us,” Kyoko added, having the nerve to look innocently helpful as she poured oil on the flames of Byakuya’s mortification. “Tell us how you feel about Makoto.”

It was too much. Byakuya slammed his hands on the table and stood, storming out of the room before either of them could say another word.

Friend. The word seemed scorched across Byakuya’s vision, throwing itself back at him everywhere he turned. _Friend_. How could he have been so stupid? So _blind_? Of course that was how Makoto saw him.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that Makoto might not reciprocate – but now that he thought about it, the evidence was plain. It never discomfited Makoto to be in his presence. Makoto never blushed or jumped just because Byakuya was nearby. Yes, he sought Byakuya out and spoke to him, but what did that signify? Makoto did that with everyone – he even tried to spend time with Toko’s murderous alter ego! It was just ordinary friendliness, nothing more.

And Byakuya had been on the verge of confessing everything to the boy. What a disaster that would have been. He’d assumed that all he would have to do was inform Makoto of his feelings, and that everything else would fall neatly into place. What stupidity! He could imagine now, all too clearly, so many other ways that moment could go, each more likely than the last. Makoto would laugh at him, recoil in disgust, try to hit him, or worst of all, run off and inform all the others about just how pathetic Byakuya had allowed himself to be. He could just hear the mockery that the other survivors would heap on him for it, hammering at the weakness like a fault in a boulder, trying to force him to splinter apart.

No. _No_. He was stronger than this. He was _better_ than this. He had never let emotions drag him down before, and he wouldn’t let it happen now. All he had to do was hide it, keep it all locked tight behind a mask. If he ignored these feelings, he was sure they’d go away in time.

All he had to do was stop thinking about Makoto.


	6. Chapter 6

Byakuya put off returning to the medical wing for the next treatment until the last possible moment, to minimize possible interactions with the others. He knew that eventually he would have to figure out how to interact with Makoto without giving himself away – but he also knew that after his reactions in front of Kyoko earlier that day, he wasn’t able to do so yet. Kyoko might be a lost cause, but at least he could avoid betraying himself to anyone else.

Of course, the problem with arriving so late was that he had no control over the cots the others had chosen. He was inclined to blame Kyoko for the fact that the only empty cot remaining was directly beside Makoto.

He could do this. Byakuya forced himself to walk over as though nothing was wrong, to sit on the edge of the cot as though the very air wasn’t electrified by the boy beside him. He managed it, keeping his expression stern and dark, but only by pretending that nothing but empty air occupied the space beside him.

Not that Makoto helped with that.

“Hey!” the other boy whispered as Dr. Kimura began to hand out the third dose of medication. “Hey, Byakuya?”

The sound of his name in Makoto’s voice, even whispered, sent a shiver through Byakuya’s whole body. He really was pathetic, to keep reacting like this even after realizing it wasn’t mutual. He set his jaw and glared at the floor, determined not to show a hint of his reaction.

This only seemed to convince Makoto that he hadn’t been loud enough. “Byakuya!”

And now Kyoko and Hina had both noticed. As if it couldn’t get any better.

Byakuya sighed, locked his features into place as best he could, and looked Makoto’s way, though he was careful at least not to meet the boy’s eyes. “What?”

“I just wanted to say sorry,” Makoto said, biting his lip in a way that drew far too much of Byakuya’s attention. “For earlier, you know? I didn’t mean to make you leave.”

Byakuya blinked. It was surprisingly difficult to follow the conversation when his eyes kept returning to the way Makoto’s teeth worried at his lower lip. They were sitting so close, it would be so easy to lean forward, to press his own teeth into that pink lip, to kiss the marks away –

“I guess it was a pretty big assumption,” Makoto said, his face falling when Byakuya didn’t respond. “I shouldn’t have just started declaring we’re friends. I should have checked with you first.”

It still hurt to hear Makoto say it. “Yes, you should have,” Byakuya agreed. At least if Makoto had done that sooner, Byakuya would have known earlier where he stood. He wouldn’t have had that brief, delusional moment when he’d actually considered acting on his emotions, and he certainly wouldn’t have humiliated himself in front of Kyoko.

“Right.” Makoto went silent for once, like he was waiting for something. Did he expect Byakuya to continue the conversation? What else could he possibly think there was left to say?

Fortunately, Dr. Kimura approached them before Makoto could try to give the awkward, painful excuse for a conversation another try. Byakuya took the medication in silence, unspeakably grateful to have something to look at other than the boy beside him.

“All right,” Dr. Kimura said. “If you’re ready, you may take your medication now.”

Byakuya wasted no time in throwing back the medication dose. Unconsciousness couldn’t arrive fast enough.

* * *

_He remembers shock._

_It is still Hope’s Peak, but everything is different. The aftermath of the Tragedy lingers in the air like a physical presence, darkening even the brightest rooms. The sixteen students of their class have made camp in the echoing halls of the ruined school, sticking to the first floor, where at least the bodies have been cleared away. Television monitors are propped throughout the school wherever Chihiro can make cable connections, and students cluster around each of them, desperate for news of the outside world._

_He remembers tears._

_He slips in and out of the rooms, avoiding the other students with their eyes glued to the monitors. He circles around Sayaka sobbing in Leon’s arms in front of a screen showing bodies scattered on a stage, past Mondo trying to wipe his eyes with Chihiro and Taka at his elbows as another monitor displays piles of ruined bikes. Finally he arrives in the last classroom on the first floor, where one student sits by himself, staring up at a television showing a destroyed living room, tears sliding down his face._

_He remembers a promise._

_He doesn’t speak as he enters the room, just sits beside the heartbroken boy and puts a hand on his trembling shoulder. This is invitation enough – the boy turns and buries his face into Byakuya’s chest, tears soaking through his shirt. He wraps his arms around the crying boy, shielding him from the image on the screen. It isn’t right that he has so little power to ease this pain, not when he would give so much to make it better. He strokes soft brown hair on the head tucked under his chin, trying to impart what comfort he can. “I’m here,” he murmurs over and over, such paltry words to offer against the image. “I’ll stay with you. Whatever else happens, I won’t hurt you.”_

_In his grief, the boy doesn’t seem to hear the actual words spoken, but that’s all right. He knows what he is offering. He knows what he has sworn to do._

_He remembers._

* * *

Byakuya stared at the ceiling when he woke, frozen in place as the memories continued to play in his head. The horror of the Tragedy’s aftermath lingered as though he’d just experienced it, the inescapable stench of blood choking him, the fear and uncertainty roiling within him.

They’d been in a sort of denial these past two days, pretending they were just recovering memories of happy school days – but of course that wasn’t all. Of course the Future Foundation wouldn’t be bothering to help if that were all. They were also here to remember the Tragedy.

He understood so much more now – the real impact the Tragedy had made, why they’d all agreed to be sealed in the school. It was one thing to be told the truth, but another to have experienced it. It had shaken him badly – shaken all of them. How could it not?

And his newly recovered memories told him that with his world rocked on its axis, his reaction had been to find Makoto and offer comfort, rather than going somewhere he could seek solace for himself. He remembered how it felt to hold Makoto as he cried, the hands clenching too tightly around him, the way the other boy had pressed close to cocoon into the embrace.

And as much as the sensations of it, he remembered how it had made him feel – the protectiveness, the caring, the ache he’d felt at knowing Makoto’s pain. The feelings still coursed through him, with a depth and persistence that terrified him. He recognized what they meant, even if he’d never actually believed that he was capable of feeling them. He knew that that he had felt them – he did still feel them. Past, present, it didn’t matter – there was no difference. He was a single person, not two distinct people with different memories, and he knew what was true.

Byakuya knew that he was deeply, desperately, and whole-heartedly in love with Makoto. He knew that he’d promised to take care of the other boy and stop him from feeling that pain ever again – that he’d meant it down to the dregs of his soul, even if he had to fight tooth and nail to make it true.

And he knew that he’d plotted to murder the boy he loved.

He could see his time in Monokuma’s Hope’s Peak through different eyes now, with enough of his memories intact to understand more of the horror Junko had been trying to inflict on them, and it made his stomach writhe with nausea. He’d thought about doing it – he’d actually sat down and thought that if he wanted to win a trial, Makoto and Kyoko would be the ones to target in a two-victim killing. He hadn’t gotten the chance to work all the kinks out of his plan, but there had been a point when, if Sakura’s suicide hadn’t so swiftly fallen into place…

He could remember envisioning ways Makoto could die at his hands. He could remember smiling.

He threw himself off the bed and made it to the bathroom sink just before he lost the battle against his nausea. He clutched the edge of the sink, the world spinning around him, retching up the contents of his stomach as images of bashing in Makoto’s smiling face bled out before his eyes.

At last he was done, more because he had nothing left to empty from his stomach than because he no longer felt sick. He might never stop feeling sick again, with those two sets of memories in his head.

“So you, too, huh?”

Byakuya looked sharply over towards the voice, only to see a pale, trembling Hina seated on the floor beside the toilet. He hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone in there. It looked like she’d been in for much the same reason he had.

Of course. She’d plotted murder as well, hadn’t she? And now, like him, Hina would have been confronted with the conflict of her own thoughts.

“I suppose,” Byakuya admitted. There didn’t seem to be much point in denying it now, not when she’d been in here the whole time. “It was – disconcerting.”

“Yeah. That’s one word for it.” Hina tried to offer him a smile, but she didn’t quite make it. Instead her mouth just quivered as if she were about to cry. “I would have just called it awful.”

Byakuya nodded slowly. “Yes. It was.”

More footsteps approached the open door. “Hey, what’s going on in – ugh!” Yasuhiro appeared in the doorway, and just as quickly recoiled.

Dr. Kimura came briskly up to the door, nudging Yasuhiro out of the way so she could get a look. She took in the scene and nodded once. “I see. So you’ve reached that stage of the treatment.”

“Stage? What, you mean we’re all going to get sick?” Yasuhiro demanded.

“It’s one possible reaction to recovering your memories of the Tragedy and related events,” Dr. Kimura said calmly. “I did warn you it would be unsettling.” She looked from Byakuya to Hina. “Are the two of you well enough to move on your own?”

“Absolutely.” Byakuya shoved away from the sink and left the bathroom. His legs were shaky and he didn’t feel quite up to walking fast, but he was still moving under his own power. There was another sink on the other side of the medical wing, an institutional-size one, and Byakuya managed to drag himself over to it and procure a glass of water to rinse out his mouth. He felt considerably better with the taste of vomit off his tongue.

He stood there staring into the glass of water, trying to regain his equilibrium, until Dr. Kimura called him over to the circle of chairs for this treatment’s reporting session. He was pleased to find that he’d more or less recovered enough to walk across the room at his normal pace – faster than Hina, who was still clinging to a confused Yasuhiro’s arm as they slowly made their way to the chairs.

That left Byakuya with a choice of several seats. Yesterday, he would have picked one of the furthest ones, the need to mask his feelings foremost in his mind. But now, his head full of warring images of Makoto sobbing and Makoto murdered, the only thing he wanted was to replace them with new images of Makoto smiling. With that goal in mind, he moved purposefully towards the empty place beside Makoto and sat down.

Makoto got up, crossed to the other row of cots, and sat beside a very startled Toko.

Byakuya stared at Makoto in shock. He’d never seen the other boy act like this. Makoto was _nice._ He was always nice, even when people weren’t nice back. He was friendly to murderers, liars, traitors, everyone.

Everyone except Byakuya, apparently. And that hurt, with a hollow ache in his chest, seeing that Makoto no longer seemed to want anything to do with him.

Dr. Kimura didn’t seem at all interested in the group’s changing seating arrangements, just waiting for Hina and Yasuhiro to get settled before she began.

“I understand some of you have started to recover memories of the Tragedy.”

Looking around the group, Byakuya saw that it wasn’t only himself and Hina who were nodding – Kyoko and Makoto were as well. They seemed to have survived recovering their memories of the Tragedy without throwing up, Byakuya noted resentfully. Perhaps what they recalled had been less jarring.

“Well, the rest of you might wish to brace yourselves,” Dr. Kimura warned Toko and Yasuhiro. “Discussing the Tragedy may trigger your own memories of it unexpectedly, which would be difficult for you to handle.” She tapped her pen on her notebook for a moment, then aimed it at Makoto. “Mr. Naegi, if you would begin?”

Makoto grimaced. “Yeah, okay.” He looked down at his hands, like he didn’t know where to start describing the tangled memories. “Well, it – it was kind of weird. I remembered a lot of pieces of what happened after the Tragedy, but not what actually happened.”

Dr. Kimura nodded. “Yes, naturally. The most traumatic memories will be the last to resurface. Now, if you have only fragments, simply relate what you saw in order.”

“I’ll try.” Makoto screwed up his face the same way he did when he was trying to piece together a summary for one of the class trials. “Well, I remember trying to build a shelter…”

His memories were different from the ones Byakuya had recovered – but really, maybe that was for the best. Byakuya didn’t much care for the idea of Makoto remembering his grief at seeing his house torn apart, with no sign of his beloved family.

Finally Makoto trailed off into silence. Dr. Kimura finished noting down the last of what he’d said, then looked up and frowned at his expression. “And was there anything else?”

Makoto really was far too easy to read. There obviously was something the boy hadn’t brought himself to say yet. What would he be trying to hide?

“Well…” Makoto shifted a little with all eyes on him. “Yeah, there was one other thing. But it wasn’t really about me, so I wasn’t sure if I ought to say or not.”

“Of course you should,” Dr. Kimura said impatiently. “Triggering memories is the entire point of this recovery process. How do you expect that to happen if you don’t share potential triggers?”

“Right.” Makoto sighed. “Well, it was after the Tragedy had happened, and we were all sheltering on the first floor. We kept watching the video monitors to try to find out what was happening outside the school, since I guess there was still news coverage going on at that point. And I remember watching with Sayaka when the news came on about –” He looked like he started to look in Byakuya’s direction, but stopped himself. “About the fall of the Togami Corporation.”

Byakuya froze. That hadn’t been what he’d expected Makoto to say. Of course, it wasn’t as though Makoto would be remembering any new information about this that Byakuya didn’t already have, since one of the first things he’d done after arriving at the Future Foundation’s base was learn the details about what had happened to his family’s company. Anything Makoto might remember from a news broadcast would be old information. But still, for him to remember it at all – and to hesitate about sharing it – seemed strange.

“So we thought that maybe we should go find Byakuya and sit with him while that broadcast was going on,” Makoto continued, staring at the ground as he talked. “And when Sayaka and I got to the A/V room, we did find him, but – well.” Makoto shrugged. “He didn’t want to talk to us and told us to leave.”

“Not very politely, I assume?” Kyoko asked dryly.

Every time before that Makoto had talked about the times Byakuya had insulted him, he’d always laughed, like the insults were some kind of bizarre inside joke they’d shared. But he wasn’t laughing now as he nearly looked at Byakuya again before wrenching his eyes away. “No. Not at all.”

“Well, not like that’s a big surprise,” Yasuhiro said. “I don’t think that guy even knows how to be polite.”

It was one thing for Makoto to say that, but Byakuya wasn’t about to put up with the others piling on their own insults. “So you’re criticizing me for not having perfect manners at the moment I learned that my entire family line fell to pieces?”

“I guess it would be understandable to be rude then,” Hina said, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“Perhaps,” Kyoko said. “But excuses don’t always hold up without explanations.”

“I don’t think I need to explain my behavior to you,” Byakuya said, giving her an icy glare.

“To me?” Kyoko raised her eyebrows. “No, you certainly don’t.”

“It sounds as though we’re ready to move on,” Dr. Kimura broke in. “Miss Asahina, if you would?”

Hina’s memories were much more unpleasant than anything Byakuya recalled – she’d apparently recovered memories of working with Sakura to clear away the bodies of some of the murdered students. He rather suspected that she’d recalled the corpses in much greater detail than she’d claimed.

Kyoko spoke next, and her memories might have been less obviously gruesome, but they were no less horrifying. It seemed that the detective had recovered her memories of their conversation with the headmaster, in which he proposed his plan to seal them in the school.

“No one liked it at first,” she said. “We all wanted to go out and help – find our families and friends, fight despair, try to help the survivors. But the headmaster was persuasive.” She looked off into the distance, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “He said that bringing hope to a new generation was the most important thing that we could do.”

“He sounds like Makoto,” Hina said.

Kyoko smiled sadly. “Yes. I noticed that as well.” She shook her head sharply, as if to knock the unwanted thoughts away. “In any case, we all agreed in the end, and that was the end of it.” She turned to Yasuhiro. “Please feel free to start when you’re ready.”

Byakuya didn’t believe Yasuhiro was capable of making a useful contribution to the conversation, so he had no qualms about tuning the idiot’s rambling out. Instead he looked over at Makoto, who appeared to be following along with considerable attentiveness. He was certainly being very careful to keep his eyes fixed on the ranting Yasuhiro, rather than letting them drift to one side to meet Byakuya’s gaze.

What could have happened to cause that kind of reaction? Was it something Byakuya had done – or could it be a reaction to one of the memories Makoto had regained? The only one Byakuya could envision having such an impact was the final one he’d mentioned, about the fall of the Togami family. Makoto had mentioned that Byakuya had sent him away – but Byakuya insulted him and told him to go away all the time. It had never had this kind of effect before. In fact, back in Monokuma’s Hope’s Peak, half the time he’d told Makoto to go away, it had actually resulted in Makoto spending large chunks of the afternoon with him.

The only difference Byakuya could think of was that this time, Makoto had brought that stupid pop star along with him. He hadn’t thought much about Sayaka either way since the end of her trial, even though she’d featured in some of his memories as a member of their class – she was just a trendy singer whose songs would be out of favor as soon as the wind shifted again. Pop music had no staying power, not like the classics that he preferred, and he’d never had much respect for the people who sang it. He could certainly see himself having plenty to say to insult Sayaka, if the occasion had ever come up for him to need to.

And then, during the killing game, she’d been the first to succumb to despair and try to plan a murder. Not only had she blatantly failed, she’d ended up a victim herself. That really did show she was too useless for words. And even aside from that, she’d actually tried to pin the murder she’d plotted on Makoto, taking advantage of his affection for her –

His affection for her. It hit Byakuya like a bolt of lightning. Sayaka had been Makoto’s first crush, anyone could see that from watching the two interact. It had certainly ended poorly in the killing game, but there had been nothing in the way their first year together.

Byakuya might not actually remember the moment Makoto had described, but he could envision how he would have reacted if he’d been learning about downfall of everything he’d spent his life working towards, and then was interrupted by the girl who’d taken the last thing left that had mattered to him. If Makoto had remembered that, it might very well explain why he wouldn’t even willingly sit beside Byakuya now.

It didn’t seem like Makoto, though, to hold words said so long ago against him. Sayaka must have meant a lot more to him than Byakuya had realized. The thought made his heart sink. It was bad enough knowing Makoto didn’t return his feelings – but thinking the boy might have bestowed them on that backstabbing pop star instead made it so much worse.

“Mr. Togami, are you still with us?”

Byakuya looked over at the impatient doctor with a start, only to realize that she must have been trying to get his attention for some time. “Yes.”

“Finally.” Dr. Kimura jabbed her pen towards him. “Begin.”

By now, Byakuya had more or less mastered the art of sharing his memories while keeping back any hint of his personal feelings. It was easy enough to describe the school in the wake of the Tragedy, the grieving students and the events showing on the television monitors. Spending enough time on those, he was able to leave out the final memory of holding Makoto entirely. That wasn’t something that had been meant to be shared. It was just a moment between the two of them – one that had obviously meant more to Byakuya than to Makoto. And if he was the only one to value the memory, then he was going to keep it to himself.

After all, it seemed like now he had a lot of things he needed to keep to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Byakuya retreated to the quiet back room of the medical wing again, hoping that no one would bother him back here today. He had too many thoughts whirling around in his head, too many ideas that were so different from the way he’d thought before. It was an entire paradigm shift, and he needed to be on his own until he figured out how to handle it.

The Tragedy had changed everything, he understood that now. He might not remember the event itself yet, but he remembered the aftermath. He could see now the way it had changed him. Surviving an event that horrifying left you different, shorn of the things that didn’t matter. He remembered surviving, and he could feel how it had affected his own priorities.

It wasn’t that he himself was different. Of course he wasn’t. But something in him had been stripped down to its core, leaving his soul bared to its essentials. He was still himself – but he was perhaps more true to himself than he’d ever been before.

He believed in hard work, in winning, in the power of the elite. That hadn’t changed. What had shifted in him was his understanding of what it meant to win. He’d thought, during the killing game, that he could achieve victory by playing by the game’s rules and using them to prove himself the best – but what would that have really proved if he’d done it? That wouldn’t have been his victory, it would have been Junko’s. No matter who could have graduated as the blackened in that game, the reality would have been that as long as they played, they lost.

The only way they’d been able to win was to break the rules and work together. At first he had been annoyed that the others weren’t playing fair any longer, but now he understood. True victory didn’t mean winning by the rules – it meant making your own.

Makoto had taught him that. Makoto had been the one to lead them to the real victory, even when everything had seemed lost. Byakuya could still remember how it had felt when he’d almost given in to despair during Junko’s last, desperate arguments – and how Makoto had called him back with a hope so bright, so intense, it had chased away the darkness just long enough to give Byakuya back his strength.

Makoto had done that for all the survivors, returned their strength and ability to fight when Junko would have stripped it away. There was a time when Byakuya would have scoffed at that, said that it couldn’t be real strength if you had to get it from someone else. He knew better now.

A single person couldn’t muster the strength to defeat someone truly worth defeating. It took a team. It took inspiration. It took hope.

At least that revelation hadn’t faded, even though Makoto had decided to avoid him.

Byakuya stared at the empty seat across from him, wishing that Makoto would show up and claim it the way he’d kept doing when Byakuya had sequestered himself away in the library. He cursed himself now for all those opportunities squandered, all those chances to make a better impression that were now lost. Maybe if he’d treated Makoto less terribly while their memories were gone, then Makoto wouldn’t be avoiding him now that he’d started remembering their past.

It was enough to make Byakuya want to hunt Makoto down and demand he stay put until Byakuya had managed to apologize for everything he’d said that was making Makoto avoid him. The only thing stopping him was the chilling realization that his plan made him sound like Toko.

He dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the table. Had it really come to this? Was he actually heartbroken? The ache in his chest at the memory of Makoto crossing the room to get away from him suggested he was.

He’d never expected to feel heartbreak – he hadn’t even thought he had the sort of heart that could break. But he’d always assumed that in the event he ever did see someone he wanted, it would be short work to win that person over. He’d had looks, social standing, money, the whole package that anyone would be thrilled to have a shot with.

Anyone but the one person he wanted, anyway. God, he was a walking cliché. He’d actually fallen for the one person who didn’t care about social standing, couldn’t be bought, and apparently preferred deceitful girls with pretty smiles. Granted, Byakuya didn’t have the money or position any longer, but he knew that even if he had, they wouldn’t have worked. Makoto just didn’t care about any of that. And now Makoto didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. Byakuya had literally nothing to offer, no leverage to get the attention he ached for.

Not that it mattered. Makoto had apparently given his heart to Sayaka ages ago. It was probably a sickeningly adorable tale of first loves reuniting after a middle school separation, the most popular idol and her perfect boyfriend. If Sayaka hadn’t been the first to snap at one of Monokuma’s motives, the whole group probably would have had front row seats for round two of the sugar-sweet romance.

And now he was jealous of a dead girl. He’d reached a new low.

“Don’t tell me you’re sulking back here again.”

Byakuya lifted his head from his hands to see quite possibly the last person he wanted to deal with right now. “What do you want, Kirigiri?”

Kyoko invited herself into the opposite seat again, propping her chin on one hand as she eyed him with a hint of amusement. “I want to know what you think you’re doing.”

He glared at her. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Kyoko twirled her braid idly around one finger. “I consider anything that makes a friend of mine unhappy to be my business.”

Byakuya stiffened. “If Makoto isn’t pleased with the memories he’s recovered, I don’t see how that’s my fault.”

Kyoko gave him an amused smile. “You really have no idea, do you?”

After days of being shaken by repeated mind alterations and medication, Byakuya was in no mood for mind games. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, not much.” Kyoko settled back in her chair, faint smile lingering on her lips. “I just want to make you an offer, that’s all.”

“Oh, really?” He narrowed his eyes, not liking the sound of that. “What kind of offer?”

“One I’m sure you’ll appreciate,” Kyoko said serenely. “After all, you’ve been so unsettled these past few days – we’ve all noticed it. So I thought I’d offer you the chance to save face.”

Byakuya didn’t trust her an inch. “How so?”

“Makoto might not be listening to anything you have to say right now,” Kyoko said, “but he’ll listen to _me_. And if I say the right things, you’ll never have to worry about giving yourself away to him again.”

On the surface, it was a tempting thought – a guarantee that Makoto, at least, would never know the truth about what Byakuya felt for him. He could spare himself humiliation, if not the heartbreak. But he knew better than to agree immediately. This offer had to come with a catch.

“What exactly are you planning to say?”

“Oh, nothing too unexpected,” Kyoko said with a careless shrug. “Just that no one here really matters to you – that you only worked with us to survive the killing game, and we were nothing more than a means to an end for you.”

Byakuya tried not to flinch at the thought of how those words would pierce Makoto through the heart.

“After all, that nonsense about forging friendships and working together was only in his head.”

He could see the hurt those words would cause, the pain they’d bring to Makoto’s eyes.

“And then I’d just need to remind him that you don’t care about anyone, least of all him –”

“That’s not true!”

Byakuya surged to his feet, words torn from his mouth in a desperate reflex against the thought of Makoto hearing those things –

And then he realized Kyoko was smirking again.

“I guess it isn’t.” Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Maybe I should say something else to him, instead.”

Byakuya sank back down into his chair, horrified that he’d actually been taken in by the most obvious fishing ploy there was. He really was off his game.

“Let me make you a real offer, this time.” Kyoko leaned forward. “I am prepared to suggest to Makoto that he give you an opportunity to explain yourself. One more chance, Togami. Try not to ruin it.”

“Why?” Byakuya stared at her, struggling to read something from her blank face. “What do you expect to get out of this?”

“I expect you to get your head on straight,” Kyoko said, her tone sharpening. “I understand that it’s a difficult task while we’re coping with the memory recovery treatment, but you could at least put more effort in. You’re on extremely thin ice right now.”

“I’ve noticed,” Byakuya said sourly.

“Have you? Good.” Kyoko nodded. “Then do something about it.”

She glanced up at a clock on the wall behind him and stood. Apparently it was time for the next dose of their treatment, because she gave him a last meaningful glance before heading out.

He made it back to the central area of the medical wing just in time to see Kyoko leaning towards Makoto and beginning a murmured conversation with him.

Byakuya looked away, taking the cot furthest from the two of them. Why hadn’t he intervened to stop her from that conversation? Who knew what she was really saying to Makoto. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was warning the boy away from him for good. He should have told her not to interfere, that he was more than capable of approaching Makoto on his own terms. No good could come of her involvement.

How bad was it? He risked a glance in their direction, only to see Makoto looking back at him warily. Their eyes met briefly, sending an electric jolt coursing through him. Byakuya had to look hastily away before he broke down and did something ridiculous.

After all, he didn’t have time to figure out what he needed to say to Makoto now. He still had another ordeal of memories to get through first.

 

* * *

 

_He remembers the uncertainty._

_He huddles together with his classmates behind a barricaded door, the world falling apart outside. He doesn’t know what’s happening out there, and he doesn’t want to. All he knows is that this is not something small. The world is burning, and he doesn’t know what it will look like from the ashes._

_He remembers the screaming._

_Voices rise and fall outside the door, dueling waves of terror and fury. Some spiral into roars of wild laughter, chilling in their madness. Others end too soon, in wet gurgles that fade to awful silence. Not for long, of course, never for long. The screams echo in his head, reverberating into eternity until he can no longer tell how many of them are real._

_He remembers the shaking._

_The barricade shudders every time something slams into the door from outside. Some are attempts to break through the door, others are simply the side effect of other violence, but they all send the barricade rattling. He is acutely aware that these are only school desks hastily crammed together, not a real shelter against a concerted effort to reach them. With every crash against the door, the desks splinter a little further, and it is only a question of which collision will be the last. Even as he thinks it, the desk wedged against the doorframe cracks, tearing into a blade that plummets down towards them._

_He remembers terror._

 


	8. Chapter 8

Taken literally, Byakuya supposed that his memories of the Tragedy weren’t as bad as they could have been. He’d been barricaded in a classroom with the rest of his class, so they hadn’t actually experienced the worst of it.

That didn’t make it any easier. He still remembered the fear, the panic, the uncertainty of it all. He remembered the knowledge pooling in his gut that this would change everything. He’d had no idea then just how right he was.

He leaned against the wall in the corner of the medical wing’s main room, trying to shake off the weight of the Tragedy’s memories. He would have preferred to commandeer the curtained sick room again, where at least he could pretend to be alone, but he’d seen Toko lurking in that direction. At least in the main room, he’d be able to see her coming if she took it into her head to try something.

And that was the only reason he was standing in the corner, where he could survey the rest of the room. He certainly wasn’t trying to work up the nerve to walk over to Makoto and begin a conversation.

Makoto was perched on a cot next to Hina and Yasuhiro, occasionally joining in their discussion. He didn’t seem very interested, from what Byakuya could read of his expression. Makoto spent more time frowning down at the ground than listening, a line marring his forehead as he concentrated. Byakuya had very briefly wondered if Makoto might be considering Kyoko’s words – but the boy hadn’t looked in his direction once.

Hina, on the other hand, had. Several times so far, she’d twisted to look over in Byakuya’s direction with a very peculiar expression. There was something highly disconcerting about it. Had Hina remembered something related to him? The thought of yet another survivor learning inside knowledge of his feelings made Byakuya’s skin crawl. And unlike Kyoko, Hina seemed the type to blabber about it in front of everyone. Byakuya scowled in her direction, wondering if he ought to try to shut her down on the subject before they all reported their latest memories to the doctor.

Hina glanced back over her shoulder at Byakuya again – and this time, Makoto noticed and followed her gaze. Byakuya froze as their eyes met, Makoto’s eyes piercing into him with none of their usual friendly warmth.

He should go over there. He should just walk over and inform Makoto that they needed to speak privately. The thought sounded so simple, but his feet seemed locked in place.

And then Makoto stood and walked over to him.

Byakuya stared down at Makoto as the shorter boy crossed his arms. “Kyoko said I should talk to you.”

“Did she?” So she hadn’t enacted sabotage after all. That was surprising – did he actually need to be grateful to the irritating girl?

“Yes.” Makoto’s voice was terse, frost glazing his words. It threw Byakuya off balance, not hearing the kindness he’d come to rely on. “So do you know why?”

Other than taking wicked amusement in his discomfiture? “Not precisely, no.”

Makoto heaved a sigh, as though the last thirty seconds spent in Byakuya’s company had been torture. “Fine.” He turned to leave.

Panic welled up in Byakuya’s chest at the thought of Makoto walking away. “Wait!”

Makoto stopped on the verge of going, looking back over his shoulder. “What?”

“There is something we should discuss.” Byakuya’s eyes darted back towards the rest of the room. Hina and Yasuhiro had looked over at his outburst, and across the medical wing, Kyoko wasn’t even hiding the fact that she was watching them. “But not here.”

He strode over to the door and headed into the hallway. It wasn’t ideal – their voices would still carry if they weren’t careful – but at least they wouldn’t be immediately in view of the others.

For a moment, he thought Makoto didn’t intend to join him. But then slowly, with a last look over his shoulder in Kyoko’s direction before letting the door close behind him, Makoto followed. They were alone, or as close to it as they were likely to get.

“What did you want to talk about?” Makoto asked.

Byakuya opened his mouth – and hesitated. What _did_ he want to say? He hadn’t thought about it, beyond the fact that he didn’t want to say it where the others could watch. This had been Kyoko’s idea, not his, and who knew what her real motivations were. For all he knew, she just wanted him to pour his heart out to Makoto so she could gloat about being right.

It wasn’t as though telling Makoto the truth would achieve anything. There would be no point in showing such weakness when he knew he couldn’t stand to gain anything from it. No, the best outcome he could expect would be for Makoto to stop being so cold and to return to his usual self. Seeing Makoto smile at him again, instead of this distant indifference – that would be enough.

He grimaced – it sounded so pitiful. But anything was better than having Makoto hate him.

“Actually, never mind,” Makoto said, before Byakuya could get his thoughts in order. “I think I already know what you want to talk about.”

“You do?” Byakuya’s stomach dropped. How could he know? Had Kyoko told him everything after all?

A chilling thought occurred to him. Was _that_ why Makoto had detached himself from Byakuya so abruptly?

“You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Byakuya stared at Makoto, cold horror seeping through him. “What?”

“I probably should have noticed it before,” Makoto said. “The way you’ve been looking at me ever since we started the memory treatment should have been a clue. And then – I mean, you’ve never exactly been shy about letting everyone know what you’re thinking.”

For all that he had so many inches on Makoto, Byakuya had never felt smaller. The boy’s words should not have the power to stab him through the heart, to lodge deep in his soul and burn.

He straightened his shoulders, gathering as many shards of his dignity as he could muster. No matter what he felt, at the very least he would _not_ let Makoto know how much it hurt.

“I see.” With an iron effort of will, he forced his voice into a casual drawl. “So you put all the pieces together. Well done.” The last words twisted into something bitter, choking back the rest of what he would have said.

Makoto frowned down at the ground again. “Actually, I didn’t want to believe it at first. I kept thinking it was just – I don’t know, a misunderstanding or a joke or something. I wouldn’t have kept trying to talk to you if I’d known you meant it for real.”

A joke. Byakuya felt the world go icy around him. He’d felt like Makoto could bring warmth into his life just by being nearby, and Makoto had dismissed it as a joke. He really had made a fool of himself.

“But now you’ve made it clear what you really think,” Makoto went on, as relentless as an oncoming train. “So you don’t need to say it again. I’ll leave you alone and stop trying to pretend we’re friends from now on.”

The words scraped Byakuya’s heart, leaving it bleeding and raw at the thought of Makoto never speaking to him again. Was it really that intolerable for the boy? The distance in Makoto’s eyes said that it was.

Byakuya had never been in this situation before, wanting something so desperately and knowing he had no way to acquire it. Was this what it felt like to be a member of the common herd – to long for something he couldn’t have?

He would have said anything if he’d thought it would make a difference. He would have opened his mouth and let every miserable, pathetic scrap of emotion come pouring out – but that would only make things worse.

“That will be for the best,” Byakuya said instead, proud of the way his voice didn’t so much as quaver. He brushed past Makoto and headed back into the medical wing before his resolve broke. Apparently, he would need to get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are curious, the next chapter will be the final one.


	9. Chapter 9

Byakuya sat on the cot closest to the medical wing door, waiting for the others to take their seats and begin this round of memory regurgitation. It really couldn’t be over fast enough for him. He just had to endure the reporting session and the final treatment, and then he could try to pretend that none of it had happened, that he’d never had his entire world overset by forgotten feelings.

Maybe he would leave. The Future Foundation had bases all over the world. He could ask to work in some other district, somewhere far enough away that he could excuse the lack of contact on the distance. He could follow through on his plans to make a name for himself, to restore the Togami name to its former glory, to carry on with everything he’d meant to do when they’d left Hope’s Peak for good.

But even then, he’d been envisioning doing it all with Makoto at his side.

Byakuya scowled at his own weakness. It didn’t matter what he wanted to be true. He would never have Makoto beside him, and he would just have to learn to cope with that reality. He would succeed anyway, no matter how hollow the thought felt right now.

Finally, the others took their seats on the cots, one by one. Looking around at them, Byakuya could tell that he wasn’t the only one who had recovered memories from the Tragedy this time. All the survivors had a different set to their shoulders, a darker cast to their eyes, marking them with memories of the Tragedy that had set off despair around the world.

“All right,” Dr. Kimura said, when no one seemed inclined to chatter as they had in some of the earlier sessions. “Let’s begin.” Her pen circled around to jab at Byakuya. “Mr. Togami, if you would start today?”

At least he would get this over with quickly.

“I remembered the Tragedy,” Byakuya said. “Or as much of it as I witnessed. We all managed to barricade ourselves in a classroom, blocking the door with a stack of desks and staying clear of the windows. The barrier must have held fairly well, since no one ever managed to break through, but I did remember parts of it starting to fall apart near the end.”

None of the others had anything to say to that, staring at the ground or off into the distance as they relived their own memories. Only Hina was looking at Byakuya, her head tilted. She seemed to be pondering something, but he couldn’t tell if she was actually thinking about him or just happened to be looking in his direction.

“Do you have anything else to add?” Dr. Kimura asked, making a few more notes in her notebook.

Byakuya shook his head. “Not really.”

The doctor nodded. “Very well. Mr. Hagakure?”

As the others shared their memories, it sounded as though they’d recalled more or less the same events Byakuya had. There were some minor variations – Kyoko recalled actually assembling the barricade, and Toko had been able to recognize more of the hallway noises – but overall they all seemed to remember the same thing.

Until Hina, at least. Her first memories mirrored the others, but as she got further into the chronology, she stopped, frowning.

“Anything else?” Dr. Kimura prompted, zeroing in on the hesitation.

“Well –” Hina bit her lip. “Yes, there was something else. It was near the end, I think, when the barricade started to take a lot of damage. It was only made of desks and things like that, so we did our best, but there were still some parts that weren’t too solid. And so when something big hit the door, part of the barricade cracked.”

Byakuya frowned. Now that Hina mentioned it, he’d remembered this as well – the jagged knife-like section of a desk that he’d seen just starting to plummet before he woke up. Well, that made sense. They were remembering the same event, so logically some of their memories would line up. Perhaps Hina’s memory would explain to him why he’d felt such terror at seeing the falling desk.

“And it broke pretty badly,” Hina went on. “So that there was this big piece of sharp, scratchy wood falling right towards Makoto.”

Byakuya froze. The path of the broken wood, sharp and vicious, arcing downwards like a blade – he could see it, could feel the terror and adrenaline pulsing through him at the sight. The memory played out dizzily in his head as Hina continued to speak.

“I thought – I mean, the way it was going straight for his chest, I thought for sure it was going to kill him. And it was moving so fast, I don’t think he even saw it. But then –” She glanced over, then hastily looked away. “Then Byakuya pushed him out of the way.”

Yes, he remembered it now, as Hina described it. The panic, the fear, moving before he consciously thought about the pros and cons. He’d thrown himself forward, knocking Makoto out of the way, just before searing agony tore its way down his back.

“So you’re saying the broken piece of the barrier hit Togami instead?” Kyoko asked, frowning.

Hina nodded. “There was a lot of blood. I don’t know much about wounds, but I think it was pretty bad.”

Bad. It had certainly been bad. The desk hadn’t broken cleanly, and it had gouged deep in too many places. His back burned as the memory of it came roaring back, the pain so terrible that he’d passed out from it.

“Wait, hold on,” Yasuhiro said. “Are you saying this guy, Mr. High and Mighty himself, took a hit to save Makoto’s life? Because that doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”

“That’s what I remember,” Hina said, shrugging.

And now Byakuya did, too. He couldn’t stop remembering it. The scene kept playing out before him on a constant loop – the broken wood about to impale Makoto, the agony when he got in the way instead.

He only snapped out of it when rough hands seized the back of his shirt and yanked it back so Yasuhiro could peer down the collar. Byakuya shoved his elbow back into the older man’s stomach, twisting away from him in disgust.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanted to see if your back was really hurt,” Yasuhiro said, looking as though he thought he’d been unjustly injured.

“Obviously it wouldn’t be anymore, you idiot!” Byakuya snapped, readjusting his shirt as best he could after Yasuhiro’s mauling.

“No, but it is all scarred and messed up,” Yasuhiro said.

“What?” Byakuya blinked, stunned to hear that. He’d had no idea there were scars all over his back – but then again, it wasn’t as though he could see his own back very easily.

“My master’s perfect skin was disfigured?” Toko asked, looking even more horrified than if she’d been told her own back had been scarred without her knowledge.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” Yasuhiro said, far too cheerfully for such a statement.

Byakuya’s face went red as the whole group stared at him. They were all looking too closely, like they could see through his masks no matter how stoic he tried to appear. Yasuhiro kept grinning, Hina actually had the nerve to look sympathetic, Kyoko had one of her obnoxious eyebrows raised at him, and – and –

Before anyone else could say a word, Byakuya was on his feet and heading out the door. He didn’t care if they were in the middle of a treatment session or that they weren’t supposed to wander far. He just knew that he had to get out of that room and away from those stares.

They all knew now, didn’t they? Even the slowest of them had to have figured it out, when he apparently had the proof of his weakness gouged into his back for them all to see. The scars from such an injury would be never fade, a permanent declaration to the world that he’d been stupid enough to risk his life for a boy who couldn’t stand to be near him.

He only stopped walking when he came face to face with a dead end and realized he’d crossed more than half of this floor of the Foundation’s base. The only rooms back here were dusty storage rooms and other equipment people rarely needed. He hadn’t realized he’d walked so far. He’d have a long trek back when he returned for the final dose of medication – if he returned. But at least on the positive side, he was pretty much guaranteed to be alone here.

Or so he thought, until the pattering of footsteps approached and rounded the corner towards him. Byakuya hoped briefly, desperately, that it was someone else – that he didn’t really recognize the cadence of footsteps. But of course luck wasn’t with him.

Makoto came running around the corner, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

Byakuya stared at the boy, confused. Why had Makoto come rushing after him like this? The last time they spoke, Makoto couldn’t have made it any clearer how unpleasant he found Byakuya’s very presence. Maybe the doctor had sent Makoto to fetch Byakuya back. That seemed much more likely than the possibility that Makoto had come of his own accord.

“What do you want?” Byakuya demanded at last, when Makoto seemed prepared to stand and stare at him indefinitely.

Makoto blinked, jostled from whatever thoughts had been occupying him. “You – uh, you left before the session was over.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to talk to you,” Makoto said. “But you rushed off before I could catch up.” He frowned. “You walk too fast.”

“You’re just too short to keep up,” Byakuya retorted. It wasn’t true, though. Makoto wasn’t too short – Byakuya could see that the shorter boy was the perfect height to nestle in his arms, head tucked under his chin. Of course his height was perfect, everything about him –

Byakuya shut down that revolting train of thought before it could get any further. No good could come of that kind of sentimental drivel, especially not with Makoto standing right in front of him.

“Well?” he said at last, when Makoto didn’t speak up. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Makoto took a step closer, and Byakuya had to fight the irrational urge to step backwards in response. “Well – it’s about what Hina said at the meeting.”

Of course it was. Byakuya had been afraid that would be it. After all, Makoto wasn’t the type to let something like that go, no matter how much he disliked the person who had saved him.

“I just needed to know if it’s true,” Makoto went on, his eyes boring into Byakuya like he could see right through to his soul. “Did you really get hurt protecting me?”

Could he deny it? No, not after Hina and Yasuhiro had both confirmed it. Byakuya decided to shrug, as if it didn’t matter. “It seems so. I recovered some of the memories while Asahina was talking, and it was just a split-second reaction.”

“So it really happened.” Makoto took another step closer, staring up at Byakuya like he’d never seen him before.

“Apparently,” Byakuya said, puzzled at this reaction. Had Makoto doubted Hina’s memories? That didn’t seem like him.

“Then I guess I really did misunderstand,” Makoto said, a smile slowly brightening his face. “We really are friends.”

Friends? Makoto couldn’t honestly believe that had been the reaction of a friend, could he?

Maybe it was just a pity offering. Now that he knew about this moment of idiocy, Makoto felt obligated to try to maintain a pretense of friendship again. Wouldn’t that be better than nothing? At least he could stay near Makoto, trying to forget the reality of the other boy’s distaste for him. Couldn’t that be enough?

“No.”

Makoto blinked. “What?”

Byakuya scowled at him. “No. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want to be your _friend_.”

Makoto’s face fell, and some of the brightness leached out of the world at the hurt on his face. Byakuya’s heart twisted, knowing that he was the cause – that he’d broken his remembered promise never to hurt Makoto. More than anything else, he wanted to wipe that expression away.

Fine, then. If he had to fall so far as this, at least he would walk away with something he wanted at the end of it all.

Byakuya strode forward, seized Makoto by the shoulders, and pulled him into a kiss.

Makoto tasted like everything he’d ever wanted, and Byakuya drank it in with a futile desperation, knowing he’d never get another chance. He had to sear this into his memory, lock away the firm pressure of lips, the heat of skin on skin, the way Makoto fit so perfectly against him.

And then, before it could be ruined by the other boy shoving him away in revulsion, Byakuya stepped back, even though it tore at his heart to let go of the only chance he’d ever have.

His heart pounded against his ribs, every thump of blood singing hot and needy for the other boy. Makoto stared back at him in shock, cheeks pink and parted lips flushed. Byakuya had to look away from the sight, or his resolve might have cracked enough for him to try again. That would be unacceptable, no matter how badly he might want to. Once could be explained away as making a point in a way that even Makoto could understand. Twice would just be weakness.

A weakness he wasn’t sure he could resist. This had been a terrible idea. He should never have given in to such an emotional impulse. At least if he’d resisted, he’d still have his dignity, if nothing else.

His skin crawled at the thought of what Makoto must be preparing to say. It had to be terrible if the boy was taking this long to think of it. Byakuya decided that whatever it was, he didn’t need to hear it. He turned to go.

“Wait!” Makoto lunged forward and scrambled into Byakuya’s path, throwing out his arms like he could block the hallway. “You can’t just leave, not after doing – well, _that_!”

“I think you’ll find I can,” Byakuya snapped. “Rather easily, actually.”

Makoto’s outstretched arms didn’t lower. Not that they were much of a barrier, since he could have brushed past them without much difficulty, but he found he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so. Looking at Makoto again had been a mistake – the determined look had always been one of the boy’s most compelling expressions.

Byakuya sighed, resignation flooding him as he foresaw the course of the next few minutes. There were few things he wanted less than to have this upcoming conversation. “I suggest you just forget it ever happened. Knock the event out of the empty space between your ears, it should be easy enough. It won’t happen again.”

Makoto stared at him. “It won’t?”

“No.”

“But – why not?”

Byakuya froze, eyes locked on Makoto’s, world shifting on its axis. “What?”

Makoto set his jaw and met Byakuya’s gaze head on. “I want it to happen again.”

Byakuya’s resolve shattered. He stepped forward, reaching out a hand to touch Makoto’s chin. Slowly, giving the other boy time to pull away if he’d misunderstood, he tilted Makoto’s head upwards, moving close until the boy’s face was inches from his own.

Their eyes connected in a breathless moment that stretched into forever.

And so slowly, Byakuya pressed his lips to Makoto’s, a deliberate declaration of everything words didn’t seem able to convey.

He had only meant it to be a soft, chaste kiss, but then Makoto pressed forward, snaked his arms around Byakuya, and _kissed back_.

Restraint couldn’t possibly be expected in a situation like that. Byakuya gave in at last to the boy he could remember wanting futilely for so long, tangling one hand in that soft brown hair as he held Makoto close. He’d been prepared to walk away and abandon this possibility, but now that he had an invitation, he had no intention of relenting. And the lips hungrily devouring his own, the hands clutching at his back, the body surging against his instead of pulling away, all of it promised he wouldn’t need to.

Everything he’d been craving since his memories started returning – since long before that, if he were honest with himself – he could do all of it now. He let his hand tangle in Makoto’s dark hair, and it was as soft and fine as he’d imagined. He slid his teeth along Makoto’s bottom lip where the other boy chewed it from nerves, and the other boy’s muffled gasp against his mouth was better than he’d dreamed. He slid his mouth away, down Makoto’s neck, indulging himself in a line of hot, fierce kisses along the line of skin just disappearing into the boy’s jacket, and the sound Makoto made as he tilted his head to give him better access was perfection.

He never wanted to stop. He wanted to tear that stupid, form-concealing jacket off and throw it away, wanted to get rid of all the barriers between the two of them, wanted to run hands and lips over every inch of Makoto’s skin until Makoto wanted him just as badly in return. And nothing was standing in his way.

“Whoa!”

Byakuya jerked away from Makoto at the exclamation, turning to see Kyoko and Hina staring at them from the corner. Hina looked genuinely stunned, but Kyoko, damn her, was smirking. _Again_.

He glared at the girls. “Go away.”

“We’d love to,” Kyoko said. “And you can come back with us. It’s time for the last dose of our memory treatment.”

He was about to tell Kyoko exactly what he thought about that treatment – but then Makoto pulled out of his arms, and all the heat seemed to be sucked out of the world with him. Byakuya stared at the other boy, off balance and bereft.

“Don’t look like that.” Makoto’s voice was rougher than usual, and he sounded faintly out of breath. “She’s right, we do need to go back. The doctor did say we had to finish the full treatment once we started.”

Byakuya grimaced. “I suppose you have a point,” he conceded with ill grace. And after all, he realized, they were just in the middle of a hallway. There was nothing stopping anyone else from wandering around the corner – and it was probably a minor miracle that Toko hadn’t come hunting him down yet. He would much rather have continued to indulge his new privilege of kissing Makoto in a more private setting, but it didn’t seem as though they’d be able to get proper privacy until the memory treatment had been completed. “We should get it over with.”

He started to head in the direction of the medical wing again, but just a hair slower this time, so that the shorter boy would be able to keep pace beside him. He thought about reaching out and taking Makoto’s hand as they walked, just to reassure himself that this hadn’t been his imagination – but he wasn’t about to try it with the weight of Kyoko’s gaze on him.

“What?” he snapped at last, when she didn’t say anything.

“I was just thinking that it took you long enough.” Kyoko smiled at him, and even if there was some wickedness lurking in her expression, there was genuine happiness as well. “You really do need to get the hang of emotions, Togami. You’ll just have to get Makoto to help you out with it.”

Byakuya glared at her, but she didn’t seem phased as she leaned in to answer a frantically whispered question from Hina. So everyone really did know now, didn’t they? Somehow, that thought didn’t bother him as much as it had a few minutes ago.

A warm pressure on his hand startled him, and Byakuya looked down to see that Makoto had pressed their hands together. That would be a ridiculous way to walk down the hall, impractical for the Foundation’s narrow corridors and as sentimental as a schoolgirl’s manga.

But he tangled his fingers with Makoto’s anyway, and he kept their hands entwined until they took their final doses of medication.

 

* * *

 

 

_He remembers the hallways._

_Sealed away in Hope’s Peak, waiting for the world to return to sanity, the few footsteps in the halls echo where there were once bustling crowds. With so few people wandering the halls, it is easy to pick out the pattern of a single student’s walk, to recognize the one set that always lifts his heart._

_He remembers smiling._

_He thought he would never smile again after that heavy door closed them in the school for what will probably be the rest of their lives, but over time, it isn’t true. There are moments of darkness, but shining through them he also finds flashes of light. He does smile again, and every time is one to treasure._

_He remembers a promise._

_He makes a promise every day, and it is gifted back to him in turn. He feels it in the warmth of a hand in his, the heat of arms wrapping around him, the blaze of lips against his own. He murmurs the words into soft hair, hears them echo back from a face buried in his chest. I love you, I love you, bright words to give them strength against the broken world._

_He remembers._

 

* * *

 

 

As Byakuya woke, a sense of comfort and security lingered from the last set of memories. There was so little security left in his life now – he almost wanted to stay asleep, just to hold onto it a little longer.

But then he realized that his hand still stretched halfway across the space between his cot and Makoto’s, their fingers entangled even after the long night. He tightened his grip a hair, just the faintest hint of a squeeze – and felt Makoto’s hand squeeze back in response.

He opened his eyes and looked over at the cot beside him. Makoto looked back, a smile bursting over his face like the sunrise.

And for Byakuya, it made the world brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the end. This has been a lot of fun to write, and I hope it was equally fun to read!


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